Page 8 of Maneater
Finally, he’s pressed up against me again, my dress up to my waist now as his hand shifts back to my wet center. I hold my breath, my eyes fluttering closed as he slides a single finger into me before tightening around it as he crooks it inside. He gifts me with a few exquisitely slow pumps before sliding out to rub my clit in slow, unrushed circles.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” I moan, hoping I keep the shock of that development from my words. “Make me come, Rowan.” His fingers tighten on my hip at the use of his name.
“Is that what you need? Me to prove myself before I get the pleasure of fucking you?” I smile then, all drooping eyelids and satisfied lips, before nodding.
“Exactly. I’m not wasting my time with a man who doesn’t know how to make me come.”
“Challenge accepted,” he says, lips moving to my neck to suck. He slides two fingers into me and starts fucking me, the wet sound of my pussy and our heavy breaths the only sounds in the room. It comes quick, the pleasure of it, heat starting in my belly, then blooming in my back as he works me as if he already knows everything about my body, every move that will pull me closer to the edge. When he adds his thumb to my clit, my back arches, my hands on his neck pulling him closer, needing purchase as I call out his name and come on his fingers.
It rolls through me, fast and hard, and his fingers continue to move inside of me as it does, pulling every last drop of pleasure from my body.
“Okay,” I say once they slow, panting and with a bit of a disbelieving laugh in the word. “Skills proven.”
And then some. My body is still singing with bliss, my heart still racing, and despite the orgasm, I already want more.
He lets out a dark chuckle of his own, a shake of his head that has my entire pussy tensing once more.
“That was just the start, Josie.” His hand lifts, wet fingers moving to my lips as I stare at him with lust and need. “Clean these.”
The idea of tasting myself on a man has never been something I thought was hot, but my fucking God, when he slides his fingers between my lips, when my tongue tastes the salty, musky flavor of myself on his thick, calloused fingers, remembering how they stretched me and made me come quicker than ever before just moments before, I moan.
His arrogant smile comes out again, and heat rips through me at the mere look. This doesn’t normally do it for me, this thinking he’s got me figured out, thinking he has me in the palm of his hand, but for some reason, with Rowan, it doesn’t feel like a show. Instead, it’s like a game.
But two can play, and god, I love to win. With a cat-like smile, I shift down to my knees, keeping my eyes on his.
“What are you?—”
“Your turn,” I say, eager for this almost more than I was for him to touch me. The groans he made while making me come were hot. I can only imagine the ones he’ll make when he’s halfway down my throat.
My hand moves to the bulge in his slacks, palming the thick, hot length of him. He’s hard and huge, that much I can tell. I want to unzip and free him, but with the way he’s looking at me, I want to tease him even more. Moving my hand down, I cup his balls through his slacks before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to where the head of his cock is.
“Don’t tease me, Josie,” he murmurs, his hands moving to my hair, pushing it back behind my shoulders. “Be a good girl and take my cock out and then wrap those pretty lips around it.”
My pussy tightens again despite just having come, and I know my breaths are coming through parted, kiss-swollen lips. I want that. I want his cock in my mouth, his hands in my hair, his praise filling my ears. Eagerly, I move a hand to his zipper and start to move it down.
And then his phone rings.
“Fuck,” he groans, his body stilling.
“What?” I ask, my hand continuing to move the zipper down. The phone continues its shrill call from his pocket, and his head falls back to look at the ceiling with another pained groan.
“I have to get that.” My eyes snap up to him, and like a child who knows she’s about to not get her way, I put my hand over his dick, palming it once more. It twitches beneath my hand.
“What? No. No, you don’t. Ignore it.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t. It’s my emergency line.” His fingers slide out of my hair, and he steps back. Without thinking, I mewl in protest, shoulders dropping as I pout.
Pouting.
Me, Josephine Montgomery. Pouting for a man.
What the fuck is happening to me?
“Trust me,” he says. “I hate this even more than you do.” The ringing stops as he steps away, and I give him a hopeful look. My body is humming with need, and I think the only person who will be able to sate it is standing right in front of me. Maybe the emergency is over, maybe?—
But then the ringing starts again, and his hand is in front of me, offering to help me up. I don’t miss that it’s the one that was in me not long ago as I take it with a defeated sigh.
At least I got an orgasm out of it.
